


A Sensible Couple

by Chocolatepot



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Class Differences, F/M, Fake Marriage Turns Into Real Love, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Pregnancy, Simple Wedding, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25474348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatepot/pseuds/Chocolatepot
Summary: When Charlotte finds herself with child, she needs to get married quickly - and James is more than willing to step up and take responsibility.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/James Stringer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	1. James

**Author's Note:**

  * For [useyourtelescope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/gifts).



> Real talk, the second Stringer and Charlotte started talking in the show I was like, _oh! They’re adorable!_ And I let myself hold out some hope that one of the ways the setting would be treated in a more modern manner would be the ability to have a non–”gentleman” love interest … but it was not to be. It’s maybe a _little_ bashy to have Sidney be the baby’s father, but somebody needs to be, so. Anyway, thank you for requesting this – it’s exactly the kind of thing I was hoping to write.

James Stringer considered himself to be a sensible man who always thought through his decisions, but when he saw Charlotte Heywood in front of him with tears in her eyes, he proposed marriage without thinking about it once.

He’d recognized her knock at the door and had opened it with a slight queasiness – he’d known before his father’s death that any chance he’d had with her was gone, and a part of him would rather not see her at all than to see her bubbly with warmth toward … well, he couldn’t rightly call Mr. Sidney Parker his rival, not with the difference in their positions. Mr. Parker was a gentleman and Miss Heywood was a lady; James Stringer was a just a working man. But even if he didn’t have a big townhouse and a coach and four, he could still act like a gentleman, so he put on a pleasant face.

When he saw the troubled look on Charlotte’s face, however, the polite greeting died on his lips, and he stood back to allow her in. She walked past him and then turned to face him as he shut the door.

“Mr. Stringer,” she said, with a piteous expression. She didn’t seem to know how to continue, so he reached out for a chair and presented it to her.

“Please, Miss Heywood.” She sat down, still very upright – then collapsed over the table, propped up on one elbow with her hand pressed to her face. He hastily pulled the other chair over and sat down without looking at it, not knowing how to react. His mouth opened and closed a few times, wordlessly, and in the end he balled his hands into fists and pressed them to his knees until she was ready to speak.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said miserably. “I’ve told nobody – except Georgiana, of course. She’s the one who suggested that I come to you.”

“Whatever it is that’s troubling you, Miss Heywood, I’d be … more than happy to help.”

“Yes, but you don’t know.” She shook her head, tears starting to spill from her eyes, and he could only watch in horror – it wasn’t his right to dab at them with his handkerchief (not that it was clean enough for a lady anyway), nor to take her in his arms and comfort her. Then she drew herself up and took a deep breath. “I shall just say it. Mr. Stringer, I find myself unexpectedly … expecting, and I was hoping – although I know it’s such an imposition – I was hoping that you might be able to – that is, you might be interested – if you wouldn’t be ashamed – ”

“Charlotte,” he interrupted her, “would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

***

The baby was Mr. Sidney Parker’s. Of course it was. She hadn’t had to say it; it was the only option once she had responded with a firm no to James’s delicate question of whether someone had behaved indecently with her. (By respectable standards, it was still indecent of Mr. Parker to take advantage of her and then leave her to marry his rich widow, but she seemed unwilling to blame him. And if there was one thing James didn’t want to do, it was to bring Mr. Parker directly into the conversation.) But that was of no matter. He made it as clear as possible that he’d take full responsibility for the child, and be as much its father as if he really were.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she’d said. “I shouldn’t make you have to do this.”

Accepting the situation was the easy part for him, though. It wouldn’t be for anyone else.

As long as Charlotte was in Sanditon, Mr. Parker – Mr. Thomas Parker – was in the position of her father, and James technically needed to secure his permission just to pay court to her. To jump to requesting her hand in marriage … he had very little hope, but he had to try for her sake. There simply wasn’t the time to spare on a slow courtship: girls of his own class might have their first just a few months after going to the altar, but Charlotte’s reputation would be ruined in the same circumstances.

“What? You want – you are one of the workers in my employ, and you dare to come to me for this?” Technically, James hadn’t been paid in several weeks and so couldn’t be considered in anyone’s employ, but he refrained from pointing this out. Mr. Parker was very rumpled, with circles under his eyes and his cravat askew, probably through worry about his project in the wake of the fire, making the already terrible situation worse. “I thought your friendship was a little unwise, but I overlooked it because you seemed to know your place. This is – this is very disappointing!”

James, dressed in his best and with his hat in his hands, set his eyes on a molded plaster bust over the fireplace and kept his face neutral. “I understand your feelings, sir, but Miss Heywood and I would like your approval. If we may have it, we’ll then go to her father, of course, so she can be married with her family’s consent. We are trying to do this respectably, with consideration for – ”

“Consideration!” Mr. Parker was pacing the floor. “Where is there any consideration in any of this?” At that shout, Mrs. Parker came hurrying in with Charlotte close behind her. Both looked troubled, Charlotte almost stricken; Mrs. Parker tried to clasp her husband’s hands while Charlotte, apparently seeking support and comfort, tucked hers into James’s elbow. He looked down to reassure her and she was already looking up at him, her face a little desperate but mostly calm.

“Tom, Tom!” Mrs. Parker was saying. “Please calm yourself.”

“But Mary – ”

“Charlotte has pled her case very well to me,” said Mrs. Parker firmly, “and I see no reason for us to object when her heart is already given. She must be allowed to know her own mind.”

Did Mrs. Parker know? James had to think she didn’t, as there was nothing hidden in her face. Mr. Parker opened his mouth to protest, but his wife caught his eye, and he seemed unable to continue.

“Very well,” he said. “I suppose I’m outnumbered. But look here, young man –” he shook a finger at James – “you had _better_ truly love and honor this young lady, or – or – or I shall see to it that you face consequences!”

***

Once they had secured the Parkers’ permission, they wrote to Heywood Farm. The response was much more positive, most likely because Charlotte’s parents assumed that if the Parkers felt the match was all right, there must be nothing wrong with it. They called the banns for three Sundays, and the next week were married, giving the other Heywoods enough time to arrive and Miss Lambe enough time to have a wedding gown made for Charlotte by a London dressmaker: sheer muslin worked in white, with a blonde lace veil. Mr. and Mrs. Heywood were a little taken aback when they heard James’s accent and saw his work-roughened hands, but he was relieved to see that they were perhaps not quite as refined as he’d assumed.

The ceremony was brief and simple – or at least it seemed brief. He spent most of it watching Charlotte’s solemn face, her deep, shuddering breath, and her pale lips, and he could hardly hear the preacher over the din of his own thoughts. This was what he’d wanted and what Charlotte needed … but it was so wrong. What on earth was he going to do?

At the end of it, when they turned to each other, she was smiling, though. It was a soft smile, with a hint of tears behind it, but it was there and she turned her face upward to him with a certain kind of expectation. James bent and gave her a kiss that he hoped said _I’m sorry_ and _I promise to be kind_ as their friends clapped, and then surged forward to congratulate them.


	2. Charlotte

Charlotte had always been told that she was a sensible girl, but it hadn’t been at all sensible to do what she’d done with Sidney Parker, and she was coming to think that it hadn’t been sensible to get married to someone else. She could have told Mrs. Parker what was wrong, and then gone to stay with her aunt in Cheshire to have the baby. She could have told Sidney, and he might have left Eliza Campion to make her an honest woman. She could have simply accepted the end of her life as she knew it.

But Georgiana had agreed with her that someone must be found to put a ring on her finger and explain an eight-month baby as premature, and that Mr. Stringer was the only man who would do it – or at least, the only man who would do it that she could brook living with afterward. He was far too nice to do it to, but she took some comfort in the knowledge that at least she was bringing him a small dowry of £500, which was probably two or three years’ earnings for him.

She had thought that she’d prefer being the wife of an artisan to going back to her family in disgrace, but after the first few weeks, she wasn’t sure. The two of them had one young maidservant who did the most basic cleaning tasks, and the cooking and baking was left to Charlotte, who had no experience at all in the field. Day after day of burnt bread and watery stew was wearing on her, and she was sure it was wearing on Mr. Stringer as well.

It was really remarkable how he never complained, never so much as looked askance at all of her terrible efforts at untrained housekeeping. He was such a very kind and tolerant man.

Truth be told, when she’d first met him and loathed Sidney, she had had … thoughts about Mr. Stringer. He had a sweet face, and a sweet manner, and the two of them got along so well, without the arguments and misunderstandings she faced with Sidney. But the heady passion of hate turned to attraction had been intoxicating, and by the time that she came to understand that Sidney had reasons for his actions and emotions beneath his chilly exterior, Mr. Stringer had, she was forced to admit to herself, completely left her mind as a romantic prospect. Which made it all the more ironic that he was now trapped in a marriage with her, under such circumstances that he could certainly never love her.

***

Many people Charlotte had known socially before she was married cut her afterward, particularly once her pregnancy began to show. Lady Susan was less interested in a Mrs. Stringer than she’d been in the promising, potential-laden Miss Heywood, and Lady Denham would have nothing at all to do with her. The Parkers received her just as graciously as they had when she was living with them, but she hardly had the time anymore to visit, or the energy to romp about with the children – and of course, there was pain in seeing them, too, and remembering the hopes she’d had.

Georgiana wasn’t at all ashamed of her and treated her exactly as she always had, but it was awkward. She paid a call two days after the wedding, beaming with joy at the successful carrying-out of their plan. By that point, Charlotte was already beginning to think that perhaps she’d made a mistake, and she couldn’t respond with the same enthusiasm, hard as she tried. They sat together in the parlor; the grate needed sweeping, the pictures had been pinned to the walls by the last tenant, and they only had a few sticks of furniture.

“I’m so glad everything’s worked out for you,” Georgiana gushed, clasping her hands. “We haven’t talked about it, but I’ve been wondering – can I be the baby’s godmother?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Charlotte. “I’m so sorry I can’t offer you anything, we don’t even seem to have any tea. I must go to the shops.”

“That’s all right, I’ve just eaten.” She didn’t look at all out of sorts, but Charlotte was suddenly and intensely embarrassed by their surroundings. It was difficult to hold up her own end of the conversation, and after Georgiana left, Charlotte bent over the little parlor table and wept. It was as though her mind went completely blank while she cried, and once she was done she had no idea what to do with herself.

By the time James returned home from work for his midday dinner, she’d composed herself and washed her face, and she didn’t think a trace of the tears could be seen. But still, after he took off his coat and hat and hung them up by the kitchen door, he came to her with a tender expression.

“We’ve had so many delays this morning, you’d never believe it,” he said. “It’s a troubled day. Plenty to go wrong everywhere, I expect.”

“Oh, just little things,” Charlotte said hurriedly. “But, you know what they say – when women get with child, all sorts of silly little things can set them off. I think it’s true.” She had a plate of beef from the cook-shop in one hand and a jug of ale in the other; he took them both and placed them on the table for her, then turned back. He made as if to hold her, then hesitated. He had barely touched her, apart from the kiss at the marriage ceremony and an occasional balancing hand when necessary – they shared a bed for the simple reason that there wasn’t space for two.

Now, she plunged into his arms, burrowing her face into his shoulder, and his hands came to rest on her waist; they moved up and in, slowly, until she was nestled in his embrace. He was such a warm and comforting presence – such a good, _good_ man. _Where would I be without him?_ she wondered.

***

Charlotte knew that being pregnant was not comfortable. As the eldest child, she’d seen her mother carry a child over and over, and knew that the bigger she became, the less comfortable she would be. But it was one thing to help your mother when she needed to sit down or use the chamber pot every half hour, and another thing to feel as big as a barouche yourself and to have to walk leaning back because you felt like you’d topple forward otherwise.

On the other hand, as she increased in girth she seemed to improve in skills and confidence. Her stews were thicker, her breads rose, her roasts cooked evenly … she even made pies stuffed with venison and spices, and steamed puddings with creamy sauces. James always smiled easily, but it gave her a thrill of real pleasure when she knew that _she_ had made him smile with the food she put on the table. (And she enjoyed it very well herself, too.)

At the same time, those smiles hurt. Love had slowly come upon her, creeping over her with the dawn as she looked at his head on the pillow beside her, brushing her heart when he put a hand on her belly to feel little George/Georgiana kicking. She had had no idea of it until she was about seven months along, and then once she realized it was clear that she’d been in love with him for weeks.

It was on a Sunday afternoon. The sun was coming in through the freshly-washed windows, catching on little dust motes here and there; James was seated on a parlor chair, leaning forward with his knees spread wide as he carved a new spoon to replace the one that had split the other day, while she sat across from him, working on a little baby shirt. Charlotte had said something – she didn’t remember what – and he’d looked up, grinning. The sunlight had glinted off his hair and eyes and her stomach lurched in such a way that she thought it was the baby kicking again, hard. But she put her hand to her stomach, which was still, and then she knew that it had nothing to do with her troublesome biology.

It was in her nature to worry over these matters. The sensible thing would be to simply accept that she was in love with this man who almost certainly saw her as nothing more than a friend, and to quietly go on keeping his house and making him happy. But after a few days of constant fretting, she found herself one evening holding her breath in bed and then bursting out with, “James? There’s something I must tell you.”

She was lying flat on her back already, trying to find a comfortable position, and he had propped himself up on one elbow above her. His face was full of concern, and his eyes flicked down her body as though he feared that something might be wrong with the baby. “What is it?”

“It’s … oh, now I don’t know how to say it.”

“You can tell me anything,” he assured her, and smiled in such a way that wrung her heart.

She took a deep breath and blinked a few times as tears unexpectedly welled up in her eyes. “I love you,” she said plainly, and waited for a response. When James’s face went blank and he said nothing for a long moment, she hurried to continue. “I know that we settled all this out of convenience, and I don’t expect you to … to reciprocate my feelings, or to do anything, I just – I just felt that I had to tell you. I completely understand that – ”

She was saved from having to say the agonizing phrase _you don’t love me_ by a slow smile breaking out over James’s face again, and by him sliding down immediately after to cradle her face in one hand while he pressed his lips to hers; she gripped his nightshirt in both hands to pull him closer without even thinking about it. When he broke away, now smiling more broadly than she’d ever seen him grin before, her lips were still parted in amazement.

“You … ?”

“I love you,” he said, and laughed. “Oh, Charlotte – I love you, and I _have_ loved you for so long.” He shook his head, still laughing a little, but with his eyes bright. “You really … ?”

“Oh, how silly I am!” She brought one hand up to her mouth as though to push back the half-laugh, half-sob that erupted, and he took her hand in hers and kissed it as well – fervently, yet gently, as he did everything for her. “I hope it hasn’t been since we first took up these lodgings together. I should feel even more of a fool than I do already.”

He looked like he could say something to that, but thought better of it for the moment and went instead to lay with his head touching hers and his arms around her. Charlotte shut her eyes and cuddled in, finally comfortable in the position her body had been unconsciously craving.

“You _will_ tell me all about it tomorrow morning,” she ordered him sleepily.

“Of course.” His voice was warm, and she could feel it rumble through his chest. “Very sensible to wait – little Georgie needs her rest.”


End file.
